Evidence of a series of storms, in the form of layered grit, can’t quite mute the expression of gratitude on this license plate. If the plate was clean and shiny, it wouldn’t preached the message it did to me this morning in the Kohl’s parking lot.
When things aren’t all so shiny-lovely in my life – as now, when some of those I love most in all the world are struggling and suffering – fear, pain and anxiety form the bulk of my Holy Spirit-groaned prayers for them. Yet I am more likely to say “Thanks, God” during times of trial, when my life bears evidence of storms, than I am during the times when the good times are flowing. Not that those words of gratitude are the first thing out of my mouth, or the second, when I’m in the midst of the chaos of a storm. The giving of thanks costs something of me when I have nothing to give. When I’d rather wallow in sackcloth’d despair, a simple “Thanks, God” takes a piece of my aching heart and lobs it beyond the present circumstances. “Thanks, God” is hope. [Read more]